


Can't Fight the Moonlight (Midnight Visitor Remix)

by MiraMira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Remix, Romance, Sisters, Werewolves, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:11:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astoria Greengrass has already chased Lavender Brown out of her favorite Potions shop - and away from her favorite Potions brewer.  Now she's in Lavender's flat, interrupting her sleep.  But as Lavender is about to discover, a 'tragic lack of tact' isn't always a terrible thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Fight the Moonlight (Midnight Visitor Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katmarajade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Can't Fight the Moonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304203) by [katmarajade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade). 
  * In response to a prompt by [katmarajade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade) in the [remixmadness2014](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2014) collection. 



> I don't remember exactly where or when I first read this story, katmarajade, but I do remember being excited to see werewolf!Lavender in a lesbian relationship, and then falling in love with Astoria in all her blunt but not entirely thoughtless glory. So when I stumbled on it again, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when she essentially barged her way into my head and demanded I write this. I hope you approve!

Lavender has just managed to close her eyes and quiet her restless thoughts – more restless than usual this past week – when her slumber is interrupted by a determined knocking at her door. Without thinking, she neglects the safety latch before opening it, only to find herself confronted by a highly unwelcome visitor.

“Thank Merlin,” says Astoria Greengrass. Or, as Lavender has taken to calling her since she deprived Lavender of both the services of the best Wolfsbane brewer she's ever found and the pleasure of prompting adorable blushes from said Wolfsbane brewer (otherwise known as Astoria's sister Daphne), _that bitch Astoria Greengrass._ Not bothering with any further greeting or explanation, she strides in and is halfway across the room before Lavender can slam the door in her face. “If I had to ask one more Muggle for directions, or how to count change...Do you really take that Pipe-train thing every day?”

“I was asleep,” is all Lavender can think to say in response to a mental image of Draco Malfoy's fiancee on the Piccadilly Line.

“Yes, well, now you're not. Convenient, that. Where's your kitchen?” Astoria looks around and takes in the entirety of the flat before Lavender can respond – admittedly, not a difficult task. “Oh, never mind, it's all one room. How odd. I'll fetch myself a cuppa.”

Lavender should be outraged. Instead, as Astoria breezes past, she can only conjure up a certain...nostalgia.

_That used to be me,_ she thinks, watching Astoria rummage through her china cabinet and magic up a cup of tea without asking if Lavender would like one, then settling into Lavender's favorite chair. Oh, she's come a long way from the mangled carcass Greyback nearly took with him to the grave: restoring what could be restored, and embracing her broken edges. But never again will she enjoy the luxury of worrying about the minutiae of peacock vs. indigo eyeshadow instead of whether her scarred eye is safely hidden beneath its curtain of hair. Or how it feels to walk into a room and know everyone is evaluating her outfit, not her status as a person.

And, as Astoria herself so aptly demonstrated in Daphne's shop a week ago, all it takes is one exclamation of _bloody werewolf_ to render all those years of effort worthless.

“I'm surprised to see you here,” she says, a bitterness she hasn't felt since those first conscious hours in the Hogwarts infirmary following the battle seeping into her voice, “given your opinions on associating with a 'dark creature of the night'.”

Astoria sips her tea with unflappable calm. “I have a lot of opinions. Perhaps more than I should at times. How did Daphne put it the other day? 'Tragically born without tact'? Quite a clever bit of snark on her part. Not that you're allowed to tell her I said so.”

“Don't worry,” Lavender mutters, remembering Daphne's horrified expression at the mere insinuation she might be romantically linked with a werewolf. “I don't think there's much chance of that.”

“ _You_ , on the other hand,” Astoria continues, dismissing Lavender's comment with a regal wave of her free hand, “ _should_ tell Daphne how clever she is. And talented. And kind. And attractive. Or at least how attractive she would be, if she'd only do something about that drab wardrobe of hers. Maybe she'll listen to you. Especially if you throw in a bit of snogging as an incentive.”

Lavender can feel her face flush, even as her stomach churns at the memory of Daphne fleeing from Astoria's words – fleeing from her and the reality of what she is – in terror. “What makes you think Daphne would want to snog me?”

Astoria snorts. “Because _Daphne_ has been thinking of nothing else. After you walked out, she shut down the store and refused to get out of bed for two whole days. When I tried to step in for her, she nearly threw me out and laid into me with a lecture that would have done Professor Snape proud. She hasn't even been paying attention to my wedding plans, she's so busy mooning over you – no pun intended. Can you imagine?”

As a matter of fact, the more she imagines it, the easier Lavender finds it to picture a life with Daphne. Running her fingers through Daphne's rich brown hair, coaxing out her sweet, shy smiles with kisses, reading each other horoscopes over breakfast, helping her test potions, making preparations for the full moon... 

The vision abruptly dissipates.

“You're right about one thing,” she says, reluctantly. “There are better choices out there than...someone like me.”

She waits for the inevitable rejoinder from Astoria. It doesn't come. Astoria merely sets aside her tea and studies her with a curiously soft expression.

“That's the other thing about Daphne,” she says at last, voice gentle. “About all us Greengrasses, really. Once we've decided on you, it takes a prowl of rabid Nundus to drive us from your side if you'll just let us _be_ there in the first place.” Her usual sprightly manner reasserts itself as she lifts the teacup once again. “I'd appreciate it if you don't go spreading that around, either. Wouldn't want anyone to think we should have been Sorted Hufflepuff.”

Lavender stifles a tiny smile. “Gryffindor's honor.”

Astoria grimaces in mid-swallow. “ _Ugh._ That's right. Forget the werewolf business. What is wrong with my sister's taste in...in _everything?_ ”

Her smile vanishes as Lavender senses the limits of rapproachment have been reached for one night. “If I promise to go back and talk to Daphne, will you leave?”

“Of course!”

Lavender breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

“... _After_ I see if you have anything appropriate to wear for my wedding. I assume Daphne will want to bring you as a guest, and while your tailored Weird Sisters aesthetic does have a certain quirky charm, I'm afraid it simply won't do for a high society affair.”

It takes every ounce of Lavender's self-control to keep from growling. Daphne had better be everything Astoria promises and more, to make up for the prospect of dealing with more Astoria.

Then again, if there's one thing Lavender's learned how to do over the years, it's adapt.


End file.
